


Discreet

by whereismygarden



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, ouat smut wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereismygarden/pseuds/whereismygarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for forzaouat’s smut wars. Rumbelle dark castle smut, with masturbation, dirty talk, and orgasm denial, because I can and I regret nothing. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discreet

Belle had thought she was alone. She had spent a long and tiring day polishing Rumpelstiltskin’s silver trophies, which had been slowly turning black over the years that he had left them sitting out in the air. Her arms were sore, he had snapped at her for going into the room where the silver had been, and then removed her from her other duties to work on the silver as some sort of punishment, the beast. There was, at a guess, a good three more days of work to be done.

                At least she wasn’t sleeping in the dungeon anymore. Her room was downright nice: there was a thick carpet, a warm bed, and a desk to study at. She had retrieved several books from their library, but she wasn’t in a mood to read for now. And since when had she started thinking of things as _theirs_?

                She kicked her shoes and stockings off, flopping down onto the bed. She hitched her skirts up around her waist, slid her drawers off, and closed her eyes. After today, she needed this if she was going to sleep with her muscles unknotted.

                The nature of her life in the Dark Castle had made her hesitant to pleasure herself, terrified of being interrupted by Rumpelstiltskin, but after a month she had decided that she could be discreet. And, she had admitted to herself, the master of the castle himself fueled her urges. She hadn’t thought of herself as a particularly _hungry_ person in matters of lust, quite content to wait as long as necessary to marry. And Gaston had never stirred her the way her bizarre master did.

                She found her hooded bundle of nerves and rubbed lightly along the edge, just enough to stir the edge of desire. She wanted this to last a while. She trailed one hand lightly along her neck, trying to feel Rumpelstiltskin’s long nails scratching at her, and flicked a little harder between her legs, sending a spike of hot pleasure through her. Her breath shortened and she moved her hand to her breast, squeezing her right nipple hard through her dress.

                “ _Ahhh_ ,” she sighed, trying to keep her voice low. Sound carried in the Dark Castle, no matter that she had left the man she was currently picturing several floors down, absorbed in his spinning. Belle rubbed harder against the hardened pink bud over her slit, spreading the wetness gathering between her thighs and pressing her head into the pillow. “Rumpelstiltskin…” she moaned softly, thinking of his spinner’s hands between her legs, pressing at her, him sending the little bolts of pleasure through her body, which were piling up on one another, pulling her slowly up the slope to her release.

                “You know I hear my name called from almost anywhere? Certainly from within my own castle. I thought you were in distress.” Belle froze, eyes snapping open to see her master standing at the door, arms folded. And here she was, one hand between her legs, skirts tumbled up, flushed and breathing hard at the thought of him.

                “I—I didn’t mean—“ she stammered, jerking at her dress, face coloring even more than before.

                “Don’t stop,” his voice was at its strangest, the voice he used when he was hiding something, and Belle met his eyes cautiously. His eyes were earnest, hot, fixed on her. She swallowed, wondering what to do. “I mean it.”

                She shut her eyes, thinking that this would all be less strange if she wasn’t looking at him, and returned her hand to her bud, suddenly nervous and uncertain—and for good reason, she thought. To her surprise, the knowledge that he was standing scant feet away only added to her desire, and her mouth dried up. She moved her finger along slowly, feeling she might faint from the combination of pleasure and the shame of his eyes on her—she could feel them, though she kept her eyes firmly closed.

                “I should have left you more work to do, I see,” he said, and Belle twitched, because he had moved closer. “Huddled up in here, you’re not doing the work I asked you to do.” His voice was rough, and she felt it like a caress, impossibly aroused by his presence next to her. “I bartered for your hands to wash and cook for me, not to _touch_ yourself to my name.” Belle bit back a groan, moving her hand faster instinctively, muscles in her legs tightening. “You can make noise now, I’ve already found you.”

                Belle moaned, moving closer to her release, his voice washing over her like a physical touch, driving her mad. This wasn’t the kind of thing ladies did, and lords didn’t ask for it, but she was just a maid now, and her master was no knight. And it felt _good_ , pressing herself hard and fast to his whispering, and she was writhing against the bedclothes, moaning his name, trembling against her hand, the other beneath her bodice, pinching her nipples roughly.

                “I thought you were a fine lady, Belle, but you’re a dirty girl, hmm?” He was humming with pleasure, whispering his filthy words into her ear. “I can put your hands to work doing dirty things to me, and it would be, ah, a true pleasure to return the favor.” She was coming closer, hovering at the edge of the bone-shaking release she knew awaited her, and he made a tsking sound. “No, dearie, you’re not coming until I say so. You called for me, didn’t you? I want you screaming and begging me, my wanton little maid.”

                Belle groaned through her teeth, wanting to fall over the edge, but liking the delicious, dirty words Rumpelstiltskin was whispering in her ear. Prickles of bliss were crawling up through her, and she shuddered, stroking a little slower against her folds, just grazing her hard bud. Dimly she realized that he was breathing hard next to her, but she was lost to anything besides his voice and her touch.

                “Please,” she whimpered, feeling she must go mad if she stayed like this for much longer.

                “I could make you beg for more than this, couldn’t I?” he said softly, lips nearly brushing her ear. “I could get you to ride my cock, dirty little maid, and beg for my hands and tongue. I’ll have you on your knees washing the floors by day, and on your knees doing far more fun things by night.”

                Belle screamed, clamping her legs together, wanting more pressure, his voice calling up things she had only dreamed about. She could be pinned beneath him, grinding above him, and either would be better than this merciless, senseless, wonderful, exquisite teasing.

                “Rumpelstiltskin, please,” she moaned. “Anything, just l-let me—“ He chuckled in her ear.

                “If you wanted to disobey me, you could. But you’re not, which means you like this more. And I’m going to make it last, dearie. You’re going to see stars.” He shifted, and the bed moved: he was sitting next to her now, Belle realized somehow, through the blinding distraction of her moving fingers. Warm fingers combed through her hair, then drifted down her face and neck, and, gods, his nails felt better than she had even imagined. She had given up trying to stifle her moans, and just half-screamed, half-gasped on the edge, hips jerking against nothing, toes curling. His fingers crept below her bodice, and his cruel nails tweaked her hard nipples, one, then the other, sending bolts of heat through her to between her legs.

                “ _Yes,_ ” she hissed, gripping his wrist with her free hand, trying to guide it downward.

                “No,” he responded, still pinching her nipples, and she shrieked. “You finish yourself, Belle. I want to see how you do it. Come for me, and I’ll bring you the next time. Come for _me_ , my filthy pretty dirty girl. Scream my name.” Belle might have shouted something resembling his name as she pinched herself, hard, but it dissolved into a scream as her whole body shook with her orgasm. She opened her eyes, but her vision was lost in a blur of black and colored sparks bursting behind her eyes. Her hand clenched around his wrist and she curled inward, screaming, clawing at the bedclothes. She had never come so hard before, as she did now, and the bed was damp with sweat and fluid.

                Her whole body was limp, still shaking, and she remembered Rumpelstiltskin’s presence. His hand was still on her breast, and his breath was heavy and fast at her ear. Some of her embarrassment fought to come back, but it was tempered by the heat that his catching her had produced.

                “Oh, Belle,” he said, brushing her sweaty hair from her face. She met his eyes, uncertain what she would find there. A smug pleasure, and lust. His pupils, usually pinprick tiny in his strange eyes, were wide and hungry. “There are no secrets in my castle.” Belle snuck a glance down to just below his waist, and swallowed at the bulge pressing against his tight leather. He followed her gaze and smirked at her. “If I had known what a lusty thing I dealt for, I would have added you in my bed to the bargain, little wanton.”

                Belle frowned at him.

                “It’s a slow thing, you know,” she chided him. “And it’s not nice to spy on people in their bedrooms!” He smiled a true smile at that.

                “And now here you are,” he was lying next to her, one arms under her head, the other stroking her stomach. “We can keep going. I’ll make you feel good.” His eyes were serious and kind, the teasing bite gone out of his voice. Belle wasn’t sure how much better she could feel, but she liked this closeness, in a different way from the way she had liked his filthy whispers.

                She gripped his shoulders and tried to tug him over her, spreading her legs apart. He followed her lead with an easy grace, and lowered his head to brush her forehead with a kiss.

                “You’re not dirty, Belle,” he said quietly, settling between her legs. She tugged lightly on his hair, a warmth spreading in her that had nothing to do with lust.

                “And you’re not a beast, Rumpelstiltskin.”

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is the weirdest smut I've ever written, so pretty please tell me if you liked it / how to improve it.


End file.
